


Slowly Regained Hope

by Diary



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Fail, Chris Argent & Jordan Parrish Friendship, Chris Argent-centric, Dark Character, Father-Son Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Interspecies, Interspecies Friendship, Late Night Conversations, Male Friendship, Minor Chris Argent/Jordan Parrish, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Chris Argent, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Queer Character, Unrequited Jordan Parrish/Sheriff Stilinski - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Warning: Gerard Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12600732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: A vaguely AU look at Chris and Parrish through seasons 4-6. Complete.





	Slowly Regained Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.

4.

Allison was still alive when Deputy Parrish first took his job, but Chris doubts she and he ever exchanged two words. It’s possible they never managed to even be in the same room together.

Everything makes him wish Allison were still alive, but in the deputy’s case, it’s the fact she’d likely know how to interact with him. Whether she’d joke and laugh until he felt at ease or look at him with wide, serious eyes and get involved in some in-depth discussion, he doesn’t know.

Before he goes down to Mexico to help the Calaveras, he buys Parrish a beer. It’s a paltry thank-you, more appropriate for thanking a buddy for helping move or loaning their car than for saving his life by pulling a pipe out of his guts, but it’s all he really knows how to do.

Some of his first memories are of feral werewolves tearing apart everything and, worse, everyone they could get their claws on. He was told, _Humans are special, Christopher. We’ve gone to the moon. We’ve built countless machines capable of numerous things. Never listen to worthless nonsense about sprouting claws and skin healing instantly making anyone special. They’re worse than animals. Animals operate mainly on instinct. They, on the other hand, use human feelings and thoughts to use their so-called gifts to hurt humans. Scars always tell a story. Humans have the unique ability to adapt when faced with disabilities._

Unlike many hunters who find themselves envying the supernatural, he can honestly say he never did. He feared and despised them, and he still does the former. When Allison was little, she’d talk about being a witch, about having magical powers, about being a vampire, and he always had to stop himself from crying or lashing out. He thanked God she never talked about werewolves.

Victoria was calmer, and she redirected such talk.

He finds himself wondering, should he have let his little girl fully dream? Should he have tried to- she knew, just as most people do, such things probably didn’t exist, but should he have indulged her in pretending they did, imagining they were, that this was a good thing, and she could be?

More than this- he knows it wasn’t Scott’s fault, he knows Scott did everything as best he could during a terrifying time, but he can’t help but wonder, if Scott had thought to bite her, would his little girl still be alive? He knows she could have quickly learned control, and if he needed to lock her in their mountain-lined storage container for a few hours during several nights every month until she did, they could have gotten through that.

His fear and disdain didn’t turn him into a murderer. He’s killed, but not all killing is murder. Until a monster hurt a human, they weren’t fully monsterous.

The idea of werewolves touching his baby in such a way- Then, worse, the idea his daughter was just like her aunt and allowed and even encouraged them to-

Now, his daughter is dead, and he can never make up for what he did to Isaac and Scott. It’s easy to think, now, but if he could just have her back, he swears, he’d find a way to accept anyone she deigned worthy of her. He’d only ever protest if their unworthiness came from not treating her right.

Isaac was an abused kid who fell for a beautiful, independent young woman, and now, he’s in a peaceful pack, and maybe, one day, he’ll be a good man. He has the potential, Chris can see. He just needs calm, stability, and affection.

He’s always going to live with the trauma of losing his first real love on top of everything else he carries around.

Scott might get himself killed soon with his insistence on always involving himself when danger comes around, and if he does- right or wrong, rational or irrational, Chris is terrified, when he himself dies, Allison will permanently refuse to have anything to do with him for letting such a thing happen.

Now, he’s sitting in a bar with- in other circumstances, even with knowing about the tour overseas and his current job in law enforcement, he’d still label Parrish as a young kid.

As it is, Parrish’s green eyes can turn orange, and he can survive being set on fire without any burns, scars, or even hair loss. Chris doesn’t know what he is, but he does know what he isn’t: Human.

He wishes to God that Kate had stuck with screwing werewolves and being a little too trigger-happy instead of burning down a house full of innocents. If his sister found a peaceful supernatural community to be part of, even with everything she’s done, he’d be happy for her. He’d leave her alone, and he’d go against any hunter who dared try going after her.

Whatever she is and whatever she’s done, she’s always going to be his little sister.

If he ends up killing her someday, however necessary and just the kill is, he’ll be guilty of murdering his baby sister.

“You don’t need to worry about properly thanking me,” Parrish’s friendly voice breaks into his thoughts. “I was just doing my job.”

“It wasn’t exactly your job to follow Peter around."

“He hurt Meredith Walker and Lydia. Then, I found out even before that, he went on a murder spree. No wonder the sheriff was tempted to shoot him in the head.”

“It would have been better if he had.”

The words come out before he can stop and think, and he winces. Sixteen-year-old Derek, a kid who should have only had to worry about college, his siblings, and interpersonal teenage drama, was taken advantage of in the worst way possible by Kate. Innocent people, some of them children, died in a fire. How Peter managed to survive, he isn’t sure, but part of it’s good her fire didn’t manage to kill everyone.

If his wife and daughter were maliciously killed and he found himself in a coma, it’d probably be best no one accidentally put him near a mentally ill girl who happened to be able to hear his thoughts, either.

His thoughts halt when he realises Parrish nodded.

“No, it wouldn’t,” he sighs. “Peter was a victim, too, at one point.”

Parrish looks distinctly unimpressed. “Being a victim doesn’t give people the right to hurt others.”

Kid, you’re talking to a hunter, is his tired thought. A long time ago, a werewolf hunted down humans, and we declared, ‘We hunt those who hunt us.’ For hundreds of years, we’ve captured, experimented on, tortured, and killed the descendants of those who hurt our species, and it’s often not mattered if they shared anything in common besides being the same species of those original monsters.

“Meredith Walker did,” he points out.

A startled look crosses Parrish’s face. “It’s different." He frowns. “You aren’t going to hurt her, are you?”

“No.” He’s tempted to ask how Parrish sees it as different. “Eichen needs new management. I’m going to try to work on that when I get back. Part of what she is did falls to Peter Hale, but that orderly holds much more blame. He manipulated and used her. Helped her do something she didn’t fully understand for his own sick joy. If it hadn’t been for him, it’s unlikely she ever would have been able to do anything. Maybe, someone would have realised a lot more about what was going on with her and been able to truly help her.”

“I hope someone still can,” Parrish says. “If you ever need help with Eichen- I plan to start making weekly visits and trying to make sure everyone, human and supernatural both, are being treated right.”

He smiles. “Good.”

Then, a thought crosses his mind. “Leave Peter be, deputy.”

“I will unless he gives me a reason.”

“Don’t let that reason be-”

“Deputy. That’s what I am. For all Sheriff Stilinski wanted to put a bullet in Peter Hale’s head, he didn’t. Whatever my personal feelings towards Peter Hale continuing to be alive, I’m not a murderer.”

Chuckling, he nods.

“Thank you for the beer, Mr Argent.” Parrish stands. “Take care of yourself. Try to avoid any more werewolves with pipes, okay?”

“I’ll try my very best.”

Squeezing his shoulder, Parrish leaves.

…

5.

After finishing filling out some witness forms, he's about to leave when he comes across Parrish.

“Deputy,” he greets.

“Parrish!” Sheriff Stilinski’s voice fills the air.

An almost panicked look crosses Parrish’s face, and with pleading eyes, he brings his finger up to his lips.

Before he can figure out how to interpret this, Parrish has ducked into a nearby room, and the sheriff is striding around the corner. His eyes darting around, he nods. “Mr Argent. Have you seen Deputy Parrish?”

“I was just leaving. Did your deputy do something wrong?”

The sheriff sighs. “I think he’s planning on leaving town, again. Last time, Lydia Martin and I stopped him, but I’m not sure we can this time.”

“If I happen to see him before he does, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“That’ll just make him run faster,” is the disgruntled reply. “If you do see him, though, tell him that two weeks’ severance requires a person actually giving their two weeks’ notice and working for those final two weeks.

“Granted, I don’t know him very well, but that doesn’t sound like something-”

“Things have changed since you were last here,” the sheriff tiredly says. “I mishandled things with him, and now, he doesn’t trust me. I should have told him that I never lost my trust in him. Ever since he found out he’s a hellhound, he’s been scared of himself. He likes Lydia Martin, but she can only do so much. Banshee or not, almost everything about her is human. He’s not.”

“Tell me honestly, sheriff: It doesn’t bother you having a creature with the word ‘hell’ in-”

“I’m going to stop you right there. Your constitutional right to free speech gives you the right to insult my deputies. That doesn’t mean it would be a good idea to do so in my station. I- don’t understand how or why there are werewolves and banshees and hellhounds. Of course, my son is dating a werecoyote, because, of course, he is.”

Rubbing his temples, the sheriff shakes his head. “But I do know and understand that someone not technically being human doesn’t make them not a person. Deputy Parrish is a hell of an officer. He’s a good kid. A good man, I should say. And yes, I want him to stay, not because I’m worried about wherever he might go, but because, I’m worried about him, and uh, also, do you know how hard it was to find a deputy like him? I’m not looking forward to having to fill his spot.”

“Well, maybe, he’ll change his mind before he makes it out of town.”

“If he doesn’t, he might find it a good idea to check ‘no’ on any forms asking about contacting his last boss.”

The sheriff storms off.

Opening the door, hefinds Deputy Parrish sitting on an otherwise empty table.

“Sheriff Stilinski is gone.”

“Thank you.”

“Why don’t we get a beer before we both leave?”

…

“Did you hear what he said?”

“Yeah.”

He waits.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re going to try to convince me to stay, too.”

“I’m not involved in this.”

Parrish relaxes a bit. “Good.”

“What made you stop trusting Sheriff Stilinski?”

Giving him a startled look, Parrish shakes his head. “He’s wrong about that. I can’t imagine not trusting the sheriff. I don’t trust myself. You should understand that. Being a hunter.”

“I would have, once. But you saved my life. More than that- You don’t have any kids, do you?”

“No. I like kids, and I’m usually good with them, but I don’t think I’d ever want one. Even before I became a hellhound and moved here, the thought just didn’t seem that appealing.”

“Fair enough. I’ve wanted- I always wanted a baby. But I was wary. Hunting was what I felt I was meant to do, but I hated the idea of any kids of mine growing up in such a lifestyle. Victoria and I, we both agreed that kids should be kept out of it. We agreed we’d keep ours out until she or he was eighteen, and then, we’d tell them what all the world really contained. Obviously, that didn’t work out.”

Aside from a sympathetic look, Parrish doesn’t respond.

“It turns out, children truly can force you to rethink certain beliefs you thought were unshakeable. Allison once said, ‘Monster is what you do, not what you are.’ She died protecting five teenagers. Two werewolves, a banshee, a kitsune, and a possessed human. And she was right to do it.”

He takes a shuddery breath. “I wish every day she hadn’t. I wish she’d never gotten involved with Scott. I wish she and Lydia hadn’t become friends. I wish she was off at college right now, knowing that her parents were risking their lives putting down monsters so that she’d always have a safe, normal, happy life. I wish she were a werewolf or werecoyote or whatever an alpha bite might have turned her into.”

“But she died fighting for what she knew to be right. She died protecting people she loved. She died protecting innocent life. As much as it hurts, that’s something I can always take pride in. Be proud of her for.”

Wiping his eyes, he notices Parrish has a hand near his arm. He imagines the urge to reach out and touch was strong, and from past interactions, he’d always vaguely knew, but it hits him Deputy Jordan Parrish is a strongly compassionate person.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling a police officer this, but I once broke my daughter’s car window, dragged a sixteen-year-old boy out, and held a gun to his head. I made Allison swear that she’d never see him again. Compare that to Sheriff Stilinski. Malia Tate is a werecoyote who killed her human family, spent almost a decade living as an actual coyote, and had to be committed to a mental institution when she was turned back into human form. That’s who’s dating Sheriff Stilinski’s son, and his reaction is to take the two out for pizza. If he says he needs or wants a deputy like you, that you being a hellhound isn’t a deal breaker, I’d be inclined to take his word.”

They sip at their beers.

“You really hated anything supernatural, didn’t you? Lydia was mostly okay, because, she doesn’t have glowing eyes, claws, or change shapes. All she does is occasionally get strong feelings and maybe break glass with her screams. You hated people like me and Scott and the other werewolves and Kira. You truly didn’t even see us as people.”

He wishes Parrish had some anger or condemnation to his tone. Instead, all there is, is a young person’s hurt and wary acceptance of an unpleasant realisation.

“Hatred isn’t exactly the word. When it comes to the supernatural, there’s shifters, and there’s those with gifts. How the people, such as druids, banshees, harpies, chose to use those gifts mattered. Then, there’s people like you, kitunes, and werewolves. Your eyes change, you have advanced senses and strength, what will kill normal humans and things such as banshees aren’t likely to kill you. Your body physically changes.”

“I viewed all shifters as akin to ticking time bombs. Some of them would never go off. Some of them already had. Most, I believed, would eventually. Where the analogy doesn’t hold is that: You disarm ticking time bombs as soon as you find one.”

“When hunters of the supernatural started to consolidate, it was decided we wouldn’t attempt genocide. We wouldn’t try to capture every shifter out there. We’d protect humans. If a werewolf or any other shifter killed a human or severely hurt them, they prove themselves a forever danger and must be put down.”   

“I was wrong. It’s not something I can fully unpack, but I know that, now. A shifter has just as much chance as being a danger to humans as humans have to being a danger to other humans and shifters. A shifter has just as much a possibility of never being a danger as humans do. And when humans are a danger, sometimes, there’s no choice but to kill them. Often, though, they can either be helped or contained. Killing should always be the last resort, regardless of what a person is.”

“I’m not sure I can be,” Parrish says, and his tone is just- so miserable. “If stealing already dead bodies was all I did, I wouldn’t say someone had the right to kill me over that. Maybe lock me up, but- Sheriff Stilinski took a bullet through the shoulder because of me. I could have hurt anyone who tried to stop me. Luckily, Stiles knew how to handle fugue state me. I brought up the same point you did: The word ‘hell’ is in my name. What if I do something far worse than stealing corpses someday?”

“What if you end up saving the town, again? Saving Lydia or other innocent people?” Finishing his drink, he adds, “And you’re wrong.”

Parrish looks over.

“Deputy Haigh attempted to murder a fellow officer, and in the struggle, the sheriff was the victim of friendly fire.”

“I shouldn’t have attacked him in the middle of the station.”

“It was your duty to apprehend him as soon as possible. I’ll agree you beating him unconscious the way you did might have been overkill, but then, I can’t blame you. I don’t think most people could, either.”

He clasps Parrish’s shoulder. “When I had that pipe stuck in me, you brought up my daughter. From what I can gather, Lydia Martin and Sheriff Stilinski are who you care most about in this town. I don’t believe you’d ever intentionally hurt them. If you believe you would, drive out of town in the morning, deputy. If you don’t, then, ask yourself: Who or what might hurt them if I’m not around to protect them?”

“Hunters generally leave banshees alone. The same isn’t true for many other supernatural creatures. And Sheriff Stilinski’s son is firmly entrenched in the supernatural world. That’s on top of the human criminals he has to deal with.”

“What if I unintentionally hurt them?”

Squeezing, he lets go. “You probably will. The world’s full of unintentional hurt. They’ll do the same to you. All you can do is try to make up for it, learn from it, and avoid it in the future.”

…

6.

Parrish comes to take his statement after someone used the guns his father handed out to shoot up the house he was inside.

When they’re done, Parrish takes a loud breath. “Look, I understand Gerard and Monroe need to be stopped. And believe it or not, I’m not encouraging you to take things into your own hands. I am- Just be careful, sir. There are certain things, certain situations, where you could be protected, but even with what they’re doing, if you decide to take the law into your own hands, you’re risking yourself. There’s a limit to what Sheriff Stilinski can ignore, and there’s a limit to what I can keep from him.”

He feels a pang having nothing to do with his gunshot wound.

Parrish is a good man, but even good men and women can be pushed too far. Sheriff Stilinski, he realises, is likely a big part of why Parrish hasn’t taken things into his own hands.

Part of him feels guilt. He knows, if he doesn’t end up putting a bullet through Gerard, Parrish isn’t going to think less of him. In fact, he might think more.

Except, it’s his father who is hunting Parrish and most of the people Parrish cares about. It’s partially, at least, if not fully, Gerard’s fault Melissa, Lydia, Mason Hewitt, and Agent McCall were all hurt. He’s been told they all came through the surgeries, but the dread-filled thought of, _What if there are complications, and one or more of them don’t make it_ , is there.

“You should come to the bunker with the others,” he says.

“I can’t do much in there.”

“You could. You could help keep the others calm, be ready to protect them if someone else got in. But that isn’t the real reason, is it?”

“I’m a deputy. A cop. We’re sort of like hunters; we don’t run and hide when danger comes. If necessary, we get people to safety, and then, we go back out there.”

“What if Sheriff Stilinski thought it was a good idea?”

“He does think it’s a good idea,” is the mild reply. “No use trying to go through him, sir. But you know, he has a kid, and those weapons the hunters have can damage him more than me. It’s my job to protect my sheriff, and it’s his job to let me.”

“I’m sure he agrees with that completely,” he dryly comments.

Smiling slightly, Parrish nods. “He’s trying his best to shove me back onto desk duty.”

…

He goes to Parrish’s apartment. “Stilinski is safely in the bunker.”

“Good. Hopefully, the sheriff can keep everyone safe down there while I get information up here.”

The words are automatic. There’s no anger, no humour, no pointedness in using the rank Stilinski no longer technically holds.

Parrish, meanwhile, is calmly putting up photos of Monroe and various deputies, and he half-expects to see orange eyes.

He sighs. “What you said to me in the hospital- In some ways, it applies to you far more than me.”

Finally, Parrish stops and looks at him, and much as it hurts, he’s relieved to see there’s clear pain, anger, and bewilderedness in Parrish’s green eyes.

“I’m not going to shoot a woman in the middle of the station. I probably could, but aside from the fact that’d likely turn her into a martyr, that isn’t the way to handle things. I don’t need Sheriff Stilinski to know, understand, and believe that. And it’d be suicide to try to get near your dad. I’m not leaving, though. I’m not like Halwyn. If they want to kill another hellhound, they can try.”

“Why’s it so important you stay?”

“I can get helpful information.”

He has the feeling he isn’t going to get much more than this. “Do you mind if I crash on your couch? Most of the people down in the bunker are uneasy about having a hunter around, and everyone up above has to be careful about when and how they go to it.”

Parrish glances over at where his bandaged bullet wound is underneath his shirt. “You’re taking the bed. I hardly ever sleep on it, anyways.”

“That might change when you find someone,” he offers.

“First, we all have to survive Monroe and your dad. Seriously, are you sure you weren’t adopted, or with no disrespect intended to your mother, was there a milkman around about nine months before you came?”

Caught off-guard, he laughs. “Believe me, I wish either were the case.” He rubs his head. “I don’t know if I honestly never saw the signs or if I just refused to. But I used to think he was one of the best men in the world. It wasn’t just a son’s love and pride. He was strong, brave, and I never much thought about all the supernatural people who died when he was around. If anyone was breaking the code, it wasn’t him.”

“I did see the signs with Kate, but in her case- I chose to ignore them. I thought he was too blinded by a father’s love and pride. I couldn’t blame him for that, and without him on my side-“

It sounds even weaker aloud than it ever has in his head.

“Everyone chooses to be oblivious to certain things at different points in their life,” Parrish says, and his voice is unbearably kind and devoid of judgement. “Lydia told me when she used to all the time, and when Peter was mentally terrorising her, the fact she couldn’t was almost worse than the fact he was doing that. And the sheriff told me that he was confronted with evidence of the supernatural in the past, but he couldn’t let himself believe.”

“What about you?”

Parrish shrugs. “When I first came here, I almost immediately knew two things: There were weird things happening, and Sheriff Stilinski might not be above-board. He definitely didn’t want me questioning or drawing attention to the weird things. I wasn’t sure what to do. I couldn’t help but like him, but if he was involved in something bad, I had to find out what, stop him, and expose him. There were probably times when, if I’d pushed just then, I could have found out the truth, but I found myself backing off a few times.”

“I’m going out,” he says.

“Here.”

Catching what Parrish tosses, he sees it’s a key.

…

“Here to plead for Scott McCall and his little friends some more?”

“No,” he answers. “Do you have any beers around here?”

Giving him an amused, curious look, Gerard pulls over a nearby ice chest, opens it, and withdraws two beers. Setting them down, he tosses a bottle opener over.

Sitting down, he opens one and slides the opener back over.

“To what do I owe this visit, then?”

“To ask why. I see who you are clearly, now. But I still can’t figure out the why. Why do you hate everyone supernatural so much? Did something cause it? I don’t know, anymore, if you intended to raise me to have a fearful distrust of them but to temper that with judiciousness. I thought you raised me and Kate to respect and keep the code, but now, I’m wondering if what she is, who she is, is due to you.”

Gerard laughs. “I didn’t claw her neck out.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do.” Gerard takes a sip. “The idea of hunters being matriarchal was never going to work. Oh, there are a few small groups and families, led by women, that work, but most of the time, women leading translated into women staying safely at home while the men hunted. They made the necessary decisions on the field.”

“You’ve always been so soft-hearted. I never did too much to break you of that. Because, people looked at you, judicious, lacking true malice, so earnest in your belief it was about protecting humans above all, and they saw the representation I wanted them to see of our family. Katie, she’s always been just like me.”

He takes a long swallow of his beer.

“It isn’t something we’re keen on others to know, but the Argents had people in the slave trade," Gerard says. "We had Nazis in the war. Do you remember what I told you when you found out about these ancestors?”

He supposes no memory of his father will be able to go untainted.

He’d been about nine or ten, and never much for physical affection when it came to him, his father had picked him up and set him on his lap. _Every family has bad apples, Christopher. Go back far enough, and everyone is related through a common ancestor. Everyone shares a person who did good and a person who did bad. You’re not responsible for their choices, and likewise, they aren’t responsible for yours. The only thing that matters is that you do what you know is right. Anyone who judges you based on people you never met, anyone who judges what you know to be right as wrong, they don’t matter._

“Yes.”

“You might not believe it, but I meant what I said. Unfortunately, you and I have different ideas of what constitutes right. The idea pigmentation or who a person’s ancestors were grants a person superiority or inferiority is ridiculous. But so is the idea no one is superior to others. This world belonged to humans, first. Something, a genetic mutation, magic finding its way to Earth, whatever the catalyst was, brought monsters onto this planet. I don’t care how peaceful most of them are. If they aren’t all wiped out, someday, the non-peaceful ones will eradicate our species.”

“You sought the alpha bite,” he points out.

“I sought a way to escape death. If I managed to wipe out every other creature, I’d agree the last one needed to be put down. But until that was done-” Gerard takes a drink.

“What if it were proven the supernatural was here before humans?”

“Then, we should still strive to become the strongest. One day, it will be us or them, and frankly, I don’t care who was here first. I don’t care if we’re the mutation. I care that it’s us left standing, not them.”

He finishes his beer. “You know, I’ve always waivered on whether killing Hitler before he started his reign of terror would be good or bad. I wish someone had killed you before you had a chance to father me and Kate. I’d hope, if given such a chance, I wouldn’t be so soft-hearted as to not do it.”

“You’d be able to do it,” Gerard says with a small smile. “And it’d be your soft-heart that made you. All the innocent supernatural people you’ve looked down on, tortured, and even killed. All the teenagers in this town you’ve come to see as innocent kids and care for. The best friend I killed to protect you. All the ones you can only imagine Kate did horrible things to, along with Derek Hale, the one she hurt that you’ve gotten to know on a deeply personal level.”

“But let me clue you in on something else: Your sister once told Allison, ‘You don’t have to be psychotic to be a killer. You just need a reason, and even then, sometimes, you can surprise yourself.’ If I hadn’t come, there’s a chance Tamora wouldn’t be doing all this. There’s also a chance she would. Others certainly will exist whether you, I, or Kate are around or not. Certain humans will always hate, fear, and attempt to destroy the supernatural, just as certain supernatural creatures will always attempt to destroy humans, regardless of whether they fear or hate us or not.”

“I’m aware of the argument someone much worse could have taken Hitler’s place,” he says.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I used to tell you, ‘You can’t save everyone.’ You never wanted to believe it. You still don’t. But I’m telling you, again, Chris, that even if you manage to win against me, even if no other monster dies by our hands, there will come a day when you’ll no longer be able to save them.”

Like Allison, pops through his head.

She saved her friends, but she’ll never be able to save anyone else.

“Goodbye, Gerard.”

…

“I’m starting to wonder if you ever sleep,” Parrish comments.

He pushes the plate of spaghetti to the side.

Sighing, Parrish places his hand in front of the laptop screen. “Okay, look, I don’t want to be a rude host, but this is my apartment. So, eat, or I’m putting a password on the TV and cutting off the Wi-Fi.”

Exasperated, he looks up. “Three people left the bunker last night.”

“They’re not prisoners.”

“No, but they’re likely to be dead soon.”

“We don’t know that Monroe will go after them right now.”

“Even if she doesn’t, she now has a pretty good idea that they’re both supernatural and have been hiding in or somewhere near town.”

Parrish sits down. “I hate this, too. Believe me, I’m not trying to make light of it. But while you’re all trying to keep everyone else alive, someone has to try to make sure you, Lydia, and the sheriff stay alive. He’s not sleeping, either. She’s not eating.”

“You’re trying to keep everyone alive, too,” he says.

“Do you think I might have an easier time doing that if not for the aforementioned sheriff, banshee, and hunter refusing to take proper care of themselves?”

Feeling utterly helpless, he starts to eat and wishes he could appreciate the food more. It’s nothing extraordinary, but whenever he makes pasta, the noodles always come out limp and utterly bland, and the sauce is always either too lumpy and paste-like or thin and watery. Parrish’s, however, has a nice texture and flavour, but it’s not good enough to get his energy up enough to indulge in a second helping.

…

After he eats supper without being threatened, he says, “I think I’ve managed to track Derek down. Brazil. I wish he’d get a damn phone or, at least, a laptop. I know he’s had the former in the past.” He studies Parrish closely. “Can I trust you to take care of yourself while I’m gone?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They do the dishes.

“What’s the worst part about all this for you?" Parrish asks. "Um, actually, let me rephrase that. Aside from innocent people being targeted, what’s the worst part for you?”

“Being so helpless. In the past, I’ve always quickly known what needed to be done. I might not have liked it, the plan might not have worked, or it might have taken time and had bumps along the way, but I had some measure of control. Keeping people safe is working in some instances right now, but this can’t go on indefinitely.”

He tries to loosen his neck. “We come up with small plans, and sometimes, they work. My father has effectively made it where taking out him and Monroe isn’t going to stop what they’ve put in motion. Soon, the world outside of Beacon Hills is going to know about the supernatural, and when they do- I just don’t think all-out war can be avoided. There are going to be humans who go after everyone supernatural with all they have. There are going to be supernatural people who, not having to hide any longer, are going to go after humans.”

“And,” he finishes, “I just wish I could stop feeling like this.”

“Okay.” Parrish takes a breath. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”

There’s not enough time to get over his confusion before his belt is being undone, and Parrish is on his knees.

Some part of him knows he should stop things, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt so _good_ , and when he looks down and threads a hand through Parrish’s hair, the sight of what’s happening-

Aside from feeling good, he hasn’t felt powerful in a long time, and in this moment, he does.

…

He knows he should try to clarify things.

The fact he enjoyed it doesn’t mean it was something he’d ever found himself wanting before it happened, and he doesn’t have any desire for it to happen again. He likes Parrish and enjoys his company, but all he sees when he looks at him is a friend.

Parrish seems to have a better grasp on all this than he does.

Part of him had felt he’d should make an attempt at some sort of reciprocity, but Parrish had brushed this aside, gotten him into bed (Parrish’s bed), and taken the couch.

He’d fallen asleep almost instantly and slept deeply through the night.

Now, he’s due to leave for Brazil soon, and they haven’t talked about what happened.     

“How’d you feel when the fake Claudia Stilinski was here,” he finds himself asking.

Parrish looks over. “In some ways, it was a relief. In other ways, the hurt was worse. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced this, but sometimes, you like someone, and you know that your chances are in the negative numbers. I liked her. She was nice. Or seemed to be, anyways. So, it wasn’t good to be having fantasies about my married boss, in some ways wishing his nice wife, who he loved more than anyone, wasn’t around.”

“But,” Parrish shrugs, “I’d never truly, fully wish two happy people in a relationship weren’t. It was just never, no possible way going to happen. I accepted that. I tried to be the best deputy I could be. I tried to make him proud of me professionally, and I knew, if I ever had a chance at advancement somewhere else, I should seriously consider it.”

“And now?"

“And now, he’s still the best sheriff this town could hope for, and along with protecting the people she’s targeting, I’m going to help put him back where he belongs soon. I hope, someday, Monroe’s punished for doing this along with everything else. I know I can’t kill them, but once certain deputies are relieved of their weapons, they’re getting a taste of what Haigh got.”

He decides not to press. “Yeah, fair enough.”

…

Before he leaves, he and Parrish hug, and when he gets back, they get another beer.

“I’m sorry about your dad and sister.”

He shrugs. “He deserved what he got. I doubt Kate will stay quiet for long. Soon enough, she’s going to hurt someone else, and when she does, I’m going to find her and either get her locked up or- I’ll do what I have to. But I won’t go after her for Gerard.”

“Granted, I don’t know your sister, but maybe- there always is a chance. Without your dad, now that she knows the full truth, she might change for the better.”

“She won’t, but thank you. How are things going at the station?”

“Still crazy. Stiles is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to go after the deputies who turned on his dad. We’re undergoing a complete overhaul, and Sheriff Stilinski is trusting me to help vet potential hires.”

Parrish tells him this with a vaguely puppyish vibe, as if he’s surprised at how lucky he is to be bestowed with such trust.

He has to bite back his sarcasm. _Yeah, kid, you just risked your life over and over to help protect people and stop the ones endangering this town. And you just absolutely refused to accept he was anything less than this town’s rightful sheriff when most of the station and town itself turned against him. Really, I can’t imagine why he might trust you and your judgement._

“Of course, Stiles might add me to his list. The sheriff is so focused on getting everything back on track, I have to bribe him with fast food and desserts to take breaks and go home and sleep for the night.”

He laughs. “I’m guessing you aren’t going to be using the same tactic you used with me that time in your kitchen?”

Parrish shakes his head. “Aside from the complete lack of professionalism, he wouldn’t want it. And even if he did, I’d want so much more.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He’s not the first or last crush I’ve had.”

He thinks of Isaac and Scott. He thinks of Victoria. He thinks of the first crush he remembers having.

And he feels a mixture of pity, sorrow, exasperation, and fondness towards Parrish. ‘Crush’ seems laughingly inappropriate as a descriptor. Whether Parrish knows it or not, the man sitting next to Chris is a man in love.

“What about you? Are you planning on staying for a while?”

“No. I trust Dr Geyer to help with the overhaul of Eichen. I’m going to go on the road fulltime to help Derek and Scott.”

“Take care of yourself. And whenever you stop by, assuming I haven’t found someone, I have a bed for you to crash on. And if I have, my couch is always open.”

He smiles. “Thank you.”

They clink bottles, and he knows there’s a war raging thanks to his family, but right now, he feels a sense of hope for himself and the world in general.


End file.
